man, of whose past history he knew very little, and nothing of the
family from which he had sprung.

He showed no trace of this feeling, however, as he sat before the fire.
Jean was standing by his side, the bright, flickering flames
illuminating her happy face. Suddenly she realised something of what
this revelation meant to him who was so dear to her. She had never
thought of it before, and it swept upon her now with a startling
intensity. What would her father do without her? She was all that he
had, and should she leave him, what would become of him? She recalled
his words uttered at the falls. "If anything happens to you," he had
said, "I do not believe I could endure life any longer." She had
smiled at him then, but she did not do so now. Stooping, she
impulsively threw her arms around her father's neck, and kissed him.

"You are not going to lose me, daddy," she said. "You will always have
me with you. And you will have another to help you," she added in a
lower voice.

"I know it, dear, I know it," was the somewhat faltering reply. "I
want you to be happy, Jean, and I believe the young man is worthy of
your love."

"'Deed he is," Old Mammy declared, as just then she waddled toward the
fire. Early that evening Jean had whispered the news into her ear, and
had received the old nurse's blessing, accompanied by a great motherly
hug. "Mistah Dane is a puffect gen'l'man," she continued. "He's not
one bit stuck up, an' he's got manners, too. Why, he touches his cap
to dis ol' woman, an' if dat ain't a sign of a gen'leman, den I'd like
to know what is. I ain't afraid to trust Missie Jean wif a man like